


Golden/Blue [2]: Hole in My Heart

by RainbowSheltie, Useless_girl



Series: Golden/Blue [4]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dom/sub, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Implied Slash, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Romance, identity crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:06:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4276254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowSheltie/pseuds/RainbowSheltie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Useless_girl/pseuds/Useless_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the long-suppressed submissive side of Tommy starts to surface yet again, he reaches a point where he decides to stop pretending that he's someone else. But planning and actually making the changes happen are two different things - especially when it depends on getting his dream job. He knew that getting a position in Adam Lambert's band was going to be life-changing, but he had no idea just how much...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden/Blue [2]: Hole in My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> **Note:** After many e-mails and brainstorming with _RainbowSheltie_ (thanks for all the suggestions and corrections!), we’d decided to try writing together. My Tommy was accepted in the Golden/Blue universe and I’m very happy about that, because it’s an amazing ‘verse! This is _my_ Tommy’s introduction and a “pre-prequel” to a long-shot story we are planning to do. The title comes from Adam’s song, “Another Lonely Night”. Enjoy, and feedback is always welcomed! ;)
> 
>  **Note 2:** Also, please check the tags of the story so you won’t get surprised. I have to add that everything in this piece was written like this with a reason. You’ll see the whys in later parts ;)
> 
>  **Note 3:** This is part of RainbowSheltie's ["Golden/Blue" universe](http://archiveofourown.org/series/256099). Please, make sure to read the other parts too to get the full picture and understand the subtle hints in my story better! :)
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Like always, this story is the product only of my overactive imagination, thus none of this had happened in real life. I wrote this just for fun/entertainment and mean no harm to any real person who might appear in the story.

 

  
Full size of the picture is [HERE](http://img14.deviantart.net/9675/i/2015/186/4/0/hole_in_my_heart_by_useless_girl-d900wap.jpg)

 

 **Golden/Blue [2]:**  
**Hole in My Heart**  
**By Useless-girl**

 

 _This feels nice_. Tommy closed his eyes and let the sensations take over. Still he couldn’t fully commit himself to them, because something was missing. The more he listened inwards, the stronger he could feel it in his bones and every fiber of his very naked body.

The familiar bed was comfortable under him, it made him feel kinda safe, but not the way he longed for. Opening his eyes when he heard the pleasure-filled moan, he looked up at the female figure writhing above him. She was gorgeous. His girlfriend had the right curves at all the right places, and the hot tightness surrounding Tommy’s hard cock should’ve felt perfect. He looked at his slender hands resting on the curvy hips, felt them move under his touch as she was riding him. His eyes wandered up on her stomach to watch the round breasts rocking with the motion of her body. He briefly slid his hands up to cup them and play with the erect nipples, eliciting another approving moan from her, then his hands slid down to rest on her thighs.

Tommy let her keep him pressed against the bed with her smaller hands on the pale chest, occasionally scratching it when she got carried away. That made Tommy’s cock throb inside her, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted to ask for more, but the blonde couldn’t open his mouth and make his vocal chords work. Why? He had no idea, he just simply couldn’t. It didn’t feel right. Not with her. Or with any other girlfriends he’d had before.

Either way, all this felt nice. It did, but still he was missing _something_. Tommy couldn’t entirely let go, because he was watching himself and his girlfriend, who didn’t seem to notice anything about what was going on in Tommy’s head. She was too wrapped up in her own pleasure. Tommy couldn’t really blame her. It was on him. He sucked at communicating – especially if it came to his own needs. He rarely let his partners know about the deeper ones anyway.

Some of his partners picked up the hints, understood what he really needed, but they were rare. Maybe he was looking for them at the wrong place. Maybe it would be time to revisit that often suppressed side of him, because this wasn’t working. Tommy felt the pleasure, the tightening around his cock as he watched her fall apart above him and then – only then – did he let himself come. He could finally relax and let go, but it lasted only for a few seconds, leaving a slight disappointment and need behind that wasn’t quenched. She isn’t able to quench it. Tommy knew that. He had no idea what he was still doing with her, but he dutifully put his tattooed arms around her once she collapsed on his chest, shallow breaths tickling his neck as he stared up at the ceiling.

He kept caressing her back and hair until she rolled off him and went to clean herself up. Tommy wanted to roll onto his side and curl in on himself, but he didn’t. He just swallowed hard. Why was he feeling so unsatisfied and trapped again? Why now? He didn’t have time to feel like this.

But these submissive urges never cared about his schedule. They came and went as they pleased. No. That wasn’t entirely true, if he wanted to be completely honest with himself. They’ve always been with him, as far as he can remember; they’ve just transformed over the years. Tommy couldn’t count the nights he spent awake, trying to put a finger on what the hell was wrong with him. As it turned out, nothing. The only problem was that he’s been asking the wrong questions from the wrong people.

He wondered why he let himself drift away; ignore the side of him from where these urges were seeping into his consciousness, into his physical and emotional needs. Why had he tried to live a “normal life”, when he knew he wasn’t built for one? He tried to please his family. He was fed up with his mom’s constant questions about when he’d settle down, find a nice girl, get married, get a nice job and a nice house – preferably with grandchildren running around. It drove him crazy. Tommy knew he fit the typical “artist stereotype” instead. You know, the one whose head is in the clouds and cannot really do average things like, fit into a “normal job” or into the traditional relationship model.

And the relationships, in which he really felt like himself, didn’t fit the stereotypical model at all. He’d tried more than once. He had girlfriends. They were nice, fun and sometimes comfortable, but he could never keep them for long. Many times he was confronted by his girlfriends because of his inability to commit to a relationship with them. But he couldn’t open up to them. Not completely. And there was another explanation too: he was bisexual. He liked men, and being gay, in any context, still wasn’t socially acceptable. It’s not how you fit in.

Only a handful of people knew about it. The rest of the world could go screw itself and its pre-historic beliefs.

Tommy could count on one hand the number of boyfriends he’d had. They were few and often years would pass from one to the next. He didn’t know why. A possible reason could be that after each failed relationship with a guy he felt more hopeless than with a woman, because he was more interested and invested in such relationships. (Don’t get him wrong, he enjoyed being with women too, but somehow he never met a woman whom Tommy wanted to dominate him like some of his boyfriends did. The blonde preferred having that quality in his men.) After breaking up with a boyfriend, his skin always got a little bit tighter and he was losing hope that he would find someone who could fully get him. Who he really was and what he really _needed_. There were one or two men, who seemed to get close to fulfilling his submissive needs, but something always got in the way or it just didn’t work after a while; when Tommy realized that nothing they did had ever been enough.

So a few times – in between boyfriends – he tried (or rather forced himself to do) this “normal life” thing with sweet (sometimes bossy, but never too dominant) girlfriends, while Tommy tried not to act too submissively. He still played the guitar, joined bands that dreamed about becoming famous, but Tommy could tell after a while which ones would never get that far, because they didn’t have enough potential in them. Next to his shitty day jobs he played with them until the bands broke up, replaced him or kicked him out for some reason. He could play, practice, put his music out there and feel that heady feeling of performing on stage even if it was just in a small pub, club or a garage. It didn’t matter. Only the music and getting better at playing mattered to him.

But lately, his telemarketing job was starting to suffocate him. It was one of the worst jobs so far, with a salary that left him barely able to afford groceries and the rent for a flat he shared with two of his friends. But he was trying to satisfy others, even if he wasn’t gaining anything in return. He knew he couldn’t go on much longer like this. The annoying, insensate or angry calls he got day after day were draining, making his insomnia worse and threatening to bring his depression back. It was a rather ugly sight whenever it struck him.

This girlfriend, now sleeping beside him, had been distracting him. Until lately, when these needs, these _urges_ have awakened yet again. He had to find a new distraction soon to keep himself focused enough to be able to go on. He had to find his center soon.

The upcoming audition for Adam Lambert’s band seemed like a good enough distraction. For now.

***

 He was nervous under the surface. Really nervous, which didn’t happen many times. The way he kept wiping his sweaty hands on the black fabric of his skinny jeans was a clear sign of that. But otherwise his face looked calm-ish and _not_ that queasy green color the guy next to him had developed. On the outside he usually appeared like a laid-back guy who often just rolled with whatever was happening, but sometimes that was just a mask so he could hide his real feelings and thoughts. While trying to suppress the side very few people knew about, he more or less perfected that mask. Only those who knew him very well and paid attention could see the occasional slip-ups. Otherwise Tommy was often living in his own head, because very few were deemed worthy to open up for. A couple of friends or a lover here and there, but it rarely happened.

The closer they got to calling his name, each time someone came out through _that_ door, the tighter Tommy clutched his guitar case as he glimpsed up from behind his long bangs that covered half of his face. Some of the other musicians looked pissed off, others just disappointed or happy that at least they were allowed to audition for Adam Lambert. But so far as he knew, no one succeeded in taking the desired position on guitar.

The waiting was the worst. The _unknown_ was what made Tommy nervous because he _had_ to succeed; had to believe with all his heart that he could do this. This could be the stepping stone he’s been waiting for. This was his chance, an outbreak from the fake life he chose to lead, one which pleased everyone but himself.

Tommy swore that if he got this job, he’d make a lot of changes in his life and this guitarist position would bring the rest of the changes he was longing for. So when a woman with a clipboard finally called his name he stood, swallowing hard and took a steadying breath. There was nothing else for him to do but follow her into the spacious room with his head bent, eyes fixed on the floor and his shoes. He could feel it in his bones that this was a turning point in his life.

And he was right about that. The second he quietly introduced himself and looked over to the people sitting on the other side of a long table, watching him, sizing him up with expectations in their eyes, he knew he had to give his very best to amaze them. _I can do this_ , he thought. His fingers were slightly shaking as he unpacked his guitar and plugged it into the amp. He exchanged one last look with Adam Lambert, the quickly rising new star with that _unreal_ voice and… damn, what a presence... That look and small smile on the freckled lips poured some more courage into Tommy.

From there it was easy. The tension slowly left him as he was playing. Music was the universal conduct between the physical and spiritual life that never failed to carry Tommy along. He knew how to become an instrument for music because once his fingers started dancing on the strings, it wasn’t really him who decided which move to make. It was all in his fingers, in muscle memory. It felt like a long-forgotten melody surfacing from the dark. A rhythm from which everything made sense for a few minutes, which made the chaos ebb down in his mind and soul to give way to harmony. When he was playing, he felt closer to something bigger – the universe perhaps. Many stories about losing yourself in music (or whatever you loved to do) and reaching this state came into his mind, but he couldn’t really put a finger on what kind of magic was happening then, what kind of collective consciousness he tapped into with those flowing notes.

It reminded Tommy of the few times when he floated in that certain headspace that he’d tried to avoid for too long. In that moment he didn’t know why it was happening in the first place but this was… this was pure, good, uplifting and liberating. He drank in each moment greedily and let this feeling wash over him, lifting him higher and higher until he could get closer – not to god, but himself. His very essence… but then…

“This was wonderful, Mr. Ratliff. Tell me, can you play the bass too?”

Still pretty much floating like a junkie on his best shot he just nodded. He could try. And he did.

Later when he was leaning against the wall outside he could only remember flashes of his audition. His fingers sliding on the strings, his hair falling into his face and Adam Lambert’s intense gaze on him. He could feel it even with closed eyes when he was lost in the music. The guy had an interesting presence, filling the room. It was… intense. Tommy couldn’t find a better word to describe it.

He’d never met a man like Adam. He was much kinder and bubbly than Tommy expected but there was something else. He could feel it in his handshake and each move he made. It was there in his beaming smile too, which nearly made Tommy miss when Adam announced that he got into the band as his bassist. And once his brain caught up with him, Tommy forgot all about that strange, _dominant_ presence, because… _he did it_! He got his dream job!!

***

_“This was wonderful, Mr. Ratliff. Tell me, can you play the bass too?” Adam’s voice was strong, but underneath all that Tommy could sense a seductive, commanding tone that no one else in the room had picked up._

_Adam’s bright blue eyes were drawing him in, and he saw within them that same Dominant presence as when they touched. It quickly disappeared, to be replaced by a look of wonderment and barely contained energy. Expectation. Everyone in the room was waiting for an answer, on the edge of their seats, seemingly unaware of Tommy’s inner turmoil or the odd change in Adam’s eyes. This new look brought a sense of comfort that the other one had not, and Tommy felt a calm wash over him, submissive side subdued – if only momentarily – because as soon as he turned around to leave, that calm immediately disappeared, as if nothing had happened. That familiar feeling of anxiety returned, the soothing presence so fleeting that it left him wondering if he had felt anything at all._

_***_

_Fuck_ , he thought as he was taking deep breaths, his body slightly shaking as the adrenaline was leaving his system. He really did it! He bent forward and propped his hands on his thighs, leaning on them. _Fucking hell, he did it!_

Straightening up he leaned against the wall with his upper-back, hips jutting forward as he fished out his phone from his pocket. Damn, if Tommy was a smoker, one would’ve felt fucking amazing in that moment. But maybe he could get some pot from his best friend instead. When Tommy switched on his phone, all thoughts of calling him flew out of his mind seeing the three missed calls and two text messages from his ex-girlfriend, with whom he broke up the day before. What the hell did she want now?

Well, he was about to find out because in that moment the device started ringing to _Slipknot_ ’s “Killpop,” the display showing a picture of her. “Fucking great…” Tommy mumbled but swiped his finger across the screen to accept the call. “Yeah…?”

“I’ve been trying to reach you all day Tommy. Were you ignoring me?” He heard her familiar, seemingly calm voice, but Tommy could feel the tension and the lurking anger in it. It made him swallow hard and start to play with the hem of the black T-shirt that he wore under his old leather-jacket. He so didn’t want to fight with her now. Or ever again. He already broke up with her. _Didn’t she get the memo?_ , he thought bitterly, remembering her sitting opposite him when he told her.

“Nope. I was at that important audition all day.”

“Oh right. I forgot,” she said and her response made Tommy’s heart sink a little. This ignorance was one of the reasons why he didn’t want to be with her anymore. He had gushed about this opportunity many times to her and forgetting about it was a clear sign that she didn’t really care about Tommy, just herself.

“Figures…” he mumbled before he could filter his mouth.

“What did you say?” her voice went up an octave at least.

“Nothing. What do you want? I’m pretty busy now.” Which wasn’t a complete lie. He _was_ going to be busy now that he got this job, plus he really needed a night out. He couldn’t remember when he did that the last time. She didn’t like to go out often.

“I think we should talk about this break up…”

Tommy sighed into the phone and ran a hand through his blonde hair, adjusting it to the right to leave his shaved side clear of hair. “There’s nothing to talk about. We’re over. You’re a nice woman, but we just don’t work together anymore. Maybe we never did,” he said calmly, but his voice was slightly shaking now. He hated it when he couldn’t get rid of people.

“You have to be kidding! We were just fine. And I still don’t understand why you had to end it. I thought we made a good team. Or you were just faking it?” her voice was rising with each sentence, clearly losing the little patience she mustered up for this phone call.

“I…”

“You totally were, you asshole!” she snapped, making Tommy cringe and drop his head, his hands lightly shaking as he slightly curled in on himself as if his body wanted to protect him from the verbal attack. He hated disappointing people. “You know what?! You’re right. I don’t need a loser like you! You were always distant, not putting anything into this relationship. It was always me who had to make the decisions. You could never put down your heel. First I thought you were just laid-back and I liked that, but now I know it was just a sign of how weak, indecisive and pathetic you really are, Tommy. So thank you for making this easier for me. Now I’m glad that you opened my eyes and broke up with me. Thank god we didn’t move in together yet and you took all your shit yesterday!” she ranted working herself up and Tommy couldn’t say anything just slide deeper and deeper, his heart sinking and his chest tightening.

“I’m sorry…” he said quietly. He thought she was right. It was his fault. Everything was his fault, because he couldn’t decide what and how he wanted and he simply couldn’t open his mouth to refute what she just said. There was always more sex than communication between them and when there was communication, he usually just listened to her talking. He rarely denied what she wanted, because even if he didn’t develop a deeper connection or feelings for her, he wanted her to be happy. He wanted that for each and every girlfriend and boyfriend he had had in his past. He liked to please the people he cared about, even if most of the time expressing himself was hard. He had always hoped that they would _know_ and _understand_ what he was trying to do, but the girlfriends never saw his efforts. The situation was slightly different with a couple of his few boyfriends.

“Yeah, I bet. You can’t do anything but fuck up and then apologize. Whatever, Tommy. I’m glad I don’t have to babysit you anymore. Forget that I ever called or that we knew each other. Bye,” she barked and then hung up, leaving Tommy gaping there.

Tommy shut and pressed his mouth together, head still bowed, fighting the urge to give in to his weakened knees and drop right there, onto the ground. He wasn’t going to do that in public. Tommy knew he usually wouldn’t be affected by a conversation like this, would shrug his shoulder and move on, but lately his emotions were all stirred and mixed up. He always became unsure and retreated more into himself when his other side, the submissive inside him awakened and tried to push itself closer to the surface. God, it was getting more demanding, like an animal that was kept on chains and starved for too long. He knew he had to do something to rein it in and find his center, his balance. Now it’ll be more important than ever, because he couldn’t fuck this job up with being unbalanced, since this was his last chance to be who he wanted to be and live his dream.

After taking a few deep breaths his fingers found the neck of his guitar case, the familiar feeling and shape grounding him enough to be able to straighten up. He tilted his head back and stared at the bright blue LA sky, the color reminding him of Adam Lambert’s intense eyes. The vibe that the singer – his new boss! – gave off didn’t help with keeping himself in check either. When he was this vulnerable, meeting or being around people with a strong, dominant presence always messed with Tommy’s head. He knew how he’d take care of this, although he doubted that opening this can of worms was the best idea, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to put the lid back after just one occasion. He might want… _need_ … more. _I’ll deal with that when I get there_ , he thought and took a steadying breath before lifting his phone up enough to see the screen and dial his friend. He wasn’t going to fall apart and let his ex ruin his happiness. Not today.

“Hey Mike. Good news. I’ve got the job. Want to go out and celebrate tonight?” Tommy greeted his friend and a small smile graced his pretty face as he clutched his guitar case a bit tighter. He can fall apart later. Now he wanted to celebrate.

***

 But there was something he couldn’t really forget. Adam Lambert’s intense look and presence were still lurking in the back of his mind. The memory coming back when he least expected it. Like when hours later, Tommy found himself in the graffiti-covered restroom of the rock and roll club where he and his friends went out for a few drinks to celebrate. They all knew that this opportunity would change things. They expected that they’d to be meeting less frequently once Tommy starts the rehearsals, the promo stuff and eventually goes on tour, so they tried to enjoy these valuable minutes together.

Tommy wasn’t fully there. He was distracted by that memory, that fleeting feeling which he felt around his new boss and that _urge_ was becoming stronger, clawing at him from the inside. Meeting his own brown eyes in the dirty mirror he sighed and rubbed some cold water on the back of his neck. A decision was slowly born in him. He swallowed hard and nodded to his reflection before fixing his smudged eye-liner under his left eye.

“What can I lose?” he asked himself. _Nothing._

With that he went back to his friends for one more beer, but made sure not to drink anything stronger. He wanted to be sober or just lightly buzzed later when he gets _there_. It’s been a while and now that his decision was made, he could already feel the excitement starting to unfurl and build in his belly. He just had to come up with a good excuse, because where he was going to go was a place not all of his friends would understand. Mike knew about this submissive side of him, but Tommy didn’t like to talk too much about it even to him, because Mike would never fully understand these urges, no matter how open-minded Tommy’s best friend was.

An hour later and he couldn’t take it anymore. His skin was crawling with need; he had to get out of there.

“Thanks, guys, for the great night. I really have to head home. The first band meeting is coming up and I have to get some sleep. I’ve never played bass before, so I need to practice and be prepared.”

Tommy knew that he wouldn’t have to wait for long. And he was right. After a few hugs, a round of congratulations and a short cab ride, Tommy found himself standing in front of a building that saw better days. But the exterior’s state wasn’t important. There was so much more under the façade and he _really_ hoped that he’d get lucky tonight. There was no sign just a side door in an alley. He knew how this worked and once he knocked on the door with his slightly shaking hand, the broad and muscular bouncer didn’t ask anything just nodded and let him in, though he kept an eye on him to make sure the blonde checked in. Tommy wasn’t sure if he remembered him from the last time the blonde was there, or he just had to take a look at him to know what he wanted. Tommy never knew with men like him. He then moved to the cashier to pay his entrance fee and sign the liability and release forms (he understands the risks and takes all responsibility for what happens inside the club). If he still had his membership card, he’d have been able to just flash it and walk through the waiting area that was separated from the actual club with a double door, but it’s been a while and he never got to the point where he needed to renew his membership card. He felt lucky this time, because there was no line so getting in went smoothly and quickly.

He entered the club part of the facility; the playrooms were in the back. The smell of leather and human heat assaulted his senses and he loved it. He took a deep breath and slowly looked around from under his blonde fringe. He felt at _home_. Or at least in his need it very much felt that way. Tommy walked to the bar in his black skinny jeans, old Metallica T-shirt and leather-jacket but he knew he’d take the jacket off soon. It was hot in there, partly because of the dancing people and partly because most of them were wearing less than your average nightclub. But no one was surprised about that – after all, it was a BDSM club with lots of skin and occasionally all sorts of private bits showing through cuts in the clothing, which – obviously – wouldn’t be acceptable otherwise.

Tommy paid for a beer and sat upon one of the leather bar stools. Usually he’d choose a booth or a corner, but tonight he aimed to put himself on display. He wanted to scene. He _had_ to, to ease the burning. He turned half-way towards the dance floor to observe the other clubbers and yes, he was sizing them up, searching for a Dominant (also called a Dom), a possible playmate. He could’ve headed right to the back in search of a free Dom who’d probably be glad to help him out, but Tommy liked to talk a bit to get a feel for the Dom and his personality. Tommy wasn’t so desperate to go with the first stranger as he didn’t have _too_ much experience when it came to scening, but he understood the basics.

He started bouncing his leg on the railing that ran around the bar, having the dual-purpose to serve as both decoration and a foot rest. He already drank half of his beer and was getting impatient when he felt a warm, strong hand touch and hold down his leg.

“You seem like someone who could use a little grounding…” the stranger’s calm voice succeeded the movement. Just when Tommy started feeling uncomfortable from the touch, the guy pulled his hand back and rested it on the stool next to Tommy’s.

The blonde man glimpsed up and immediately a small smile appeared on his face. Broad shoulders and chest, messy brown hair, some stubble and a pair of green eyes; the man wasn’t particularly tall, but it was easy to tower over Tommy.

“What makes you think so?” the musician shot back, lifting an eye-brow questioningly. They both knew it was the first test of the few before anything could happen.

“Your body-language gives you away. Bouncing legs, squirming on the stool, glimpsing around every other minute, scratching the label of your beer and biting that gorgeous lip of yours… I wouldn’t be a very good Dom if I didn’t see the signs,” he shrugged nonchalantly. Tommy had to admit, he was spot on. “I’m Scott. Can I buy you a drink?”

Tommy’s smile widened, because this guy seemed promising. “Nice to meet you, Scott and yes, thanks. I’m Tommy…” he said, watching the guy wave for the bartender and smirk back at him.

The night just became interesting.


End file.
